Jenny goes Hollywood
by Madison Langston
Paul had removed trousers and underwear. His only garment was an open-down-the-front white shirt. Reclined in the armchair, he held my damp panties under his nose and watched his wife go down on me, stroking his erection with slow, gentle caresses.
The firm muscles of his tight abs and arms rippled as his arm moved. As I watched Paul’s palm pick up his leaking precum and smear it over the head and shaft, my nipples became pebbles. His penis must have measured nine inches and thick. Even in his large paw, it was a handful. I yearned to take its glistening head into my mouth and taste it, feel its satin smoothness on my tongue, and breathe the masculine scent.
Paul locked eyes with me. His wanton expression and the knowledge that he was aroused by what his wife was doing to me raised my lust to a level that banished rational thought. I submerged myself in erotic stimulation—Paul’s unhurried self-touching, Leica’s oral titillation, and the mingled sexual smells of three aroused people. My steady climb toward orgasm continued until I was precariously teetering on the edge.